


No Matter

by liaw-mostlydead (Firefly264)



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Reminiscing, post-game (implied), these boys need to have a serious talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firefly264/pseuds/liaw-mostlydead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: GamKar, "I hate you"</p>
<p>You thought it was serendipity. Part of you still believes that. It was like a scene straight out of a movie; a rage-addled highblood on a rampage and the lowblood who pacified him. He smoothed out your rough edges and barbed points in return, and you thought it was fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompt on Tumblr

“I hate you.”

You say it quietly, almost hoping he doesn’t hear. He does, of course, because he’s curled around you, holding you close, and you would be content if you weren’t so damn conflicted right now.

He hears you, but his reaction is delayed, so blissed out by the two solid hours you just put in to calming him that it takes a moment for his content, rusty purr to stop. You curl up, drawing your hands against your chest, letting your horns rest on his chest. He doesn’t flinch, even as one presses down over his bloodpusher.

“I reckon you’ve got a right to,” he says quietly, his hand moving from its place on your back as he rolls to face the ceiling.

The two of you lie quietly in the pile (a half-assed thing made of pillows and horns and books, thrown together as you held him by the hand and tried to keep him from shattering), and you are intensely aware of the space between you.

You thought it was serendipity. Part of you still believes that. It was like a scene straight out of a movie; a rage-addled highblood on a rampage and the lowblood who pacified him. He smoothed out your rough edges and barbed points in return, and you thought it was _fate_.

It’s not entirely his fault; there were forces beyond anyone’s comprehension at work, pulling at your moirail’s strings and turning him into a demented puppet. They took whatever rage he still held after your relationship began and twisted it into something razor-sharp and cold, and they made him walk away and _leave you_. He stood next to the cherub god who wanted all of you dead and fucking _smiled_ , like he was _proud_ of the way he led every timeline to a brutal, gruesome end.

And when all the mind games stopped, when they cut his strings and let him collapse into himself, he had the fucking _audacity_ to crawl back to you, shaking and sobbing and trying _so fucking hard_ not to snap again, and beg you to take him back, saying _he needs you, he’s so motherfucking sorry and he needs you_. And like the idiot you are –

You believe him.

You believed him when he clung to you like a wriggler despite the fact that he has always towered over you, and when he snapped and snarled at anyone who came too close like a wild animal you grabbed him and held him and it felt like it did before.

But he’s still a murderer, a lunatic, and he’s hurt too many of your friends for you to ignore anymore. And you’re not sure if you know how to forgive him for that.

No matter how much you pity him.


End file.
